


The Valiant

by QHQ



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Other, Prince Caspian, The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, and give lucy the ending she deserved, and then i say fuck clive, but hoo boy i do, covid writing, i don't even know what this is, i get that not many people ship this, quarantined in a basement and there's not much else to do, set in-universe, the voyage of the dawn treader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:13:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QHQ/pseuds/QHQ
Summary: When Lucy was four years old she swore to be brave. When she was eight, Aslan named her valiant. Maybe she couldn't be beautiful or gentle like Susan, but she didn't care about that. Not really. She would be brave instead.
Relationships: Caspian/Lucy Pevensie
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	1. The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting around as an email draft for months on my gmail. It started as some notes I typed up last summer and I wasn't ever gonna do anything with it, but then I had to go into self isolation and suddenly I had nothing better to do. So here you go. It might suck.

The first memory Lucy has is of playing in the street with Edmund. He wanted to play knights and ogres, and wanted her to play the part of the ogre. Instead, Lucy stuck a daisy behind her ear and called herself a Princess, saying that Edmund could fight a princess just as well as he could fight an ogre. Irritated, Edmund had grabbed the daisy and ground it beneath his foot. 

"Listen here, Lu", he said, ignoring the tears welling her up in her eyes. "You can't be a princess. Princesses have to be pretty. And Susan's already the pretty one. You'll have to be something else, alright?"

She doesn't think he meant the words cruelly. She'd been only four, and still cute as a button. But he thought that being pretty would bring about all the other girly things he hated so much in Susan. Now she was eight, and she'd never let herself forget Edmund's words. At eight years old Susan had looked like a china doll, with skinny arms, a beautiful complexion, and perfect curls bouncing around her. Eight year old Lucy was chubby, with a plain moon face scattered across with freckles and stringy hair. She had tried to be clever like Edmund, but everybody else seemed to find it irritating. Clearly she wasn't going to be beautiful like Susan, so she decided to be brave instead, like Peter. 

For years she and Peter roamed the streets of East London together, sticks clutched in their hands as swords and fighting against imaginary foes. Peter was thirteen now, though, and if the war didn't end within a few years he would shipped off to fight. His playacting grew more and more frantic, and he had less attention to spare for Lucy. He often grew irritable with her, claiming that girls should be inside doing chores with their mothers.

So most mornings, Lucy would escape down to the riverbank, reading a book and loitering on the docks. When she was sure there was no one nearby, sometimes she would pick up a stick and practice her fighting, but it was no fun without Peter. 

And then, at the first test, her bravery abandoned her. The bombs were falling and she froze. Peter had to tuck her under his arm and haul her out to the shelter before going back to deal with Edmund. She had sat there, in the darkness, and had vowed then and there. Her bravery would never abandon her again.  
The first test came on the train out to the countryside. She tried her very best to be brave. Peter and Susan fought over who was in charge and Edmund complained - being clever seemed to entail a lot of complaining. She sat in the corner of their compartment and clutched the tag Peter had pinned to her coat as hard as she could in her little fist. She would not cry. She would not whine. She would be brave.

She found that it was easy to be brave in the Professor's house. The house was large and the country was wide. It seemed as though the war couldn't touch them there. She ruled over the manor, and practiced her bravery against the stern Mrs. Macready. Whilst she had decided to be brave, Peter had decided to be a better big brother. He devoted his days to doting upon her and she drank in his attention like a daisy drinks up sunlight. 

His confidence and love helped her to make it through the long nights when the shadows loomed large and the homesickness threatened to crash over her.

And then in one brilliant, unbelievable moment, she discovered Narnia. For the first time she could remember she felt totally, completely safe. She didn't even need to be brave here because there was nothing to be afraid of in the beginning. Even Mr. Tumnus's dire warning's did nothing to tamp down the fear in her. She could feel the very goodness of the place in her bones. Aslan had breathed goodness into it and good it remained, despite the interference of the white witch.

She'd run through the frozen countryside with freedom coursing through her veins. This was her land and her family. She felt perfectly brave. She was so brave that she argued when Father Christmas would only give her a dagger and the cordial, not a weapon more suited for offense. 

"Who is more courageous, Little One?" he had asked her. "The soldier who enters battle armed to the teeth? Or the child who braves the battlefield with nothing but a dagger to guard herself in order to heal those most in need?" She still wished she could have gotten a bigger weapon, but she treasured the cordial and kept it close to her chest. 

At eight years old, Lucy felt the heavy weight of her crown settle upon her brow as Aslan dubbed her Queen Lucy the Valiant. She thought in that moment that being valiant was far better than being just, or gentle, or even magnificent. 

Peter and Susan quickly settled into court life. Peter spent all his time laying down the laws of the land, or defending its borders against the Telmarines and other foes. He tried to make time for Lucy, and would sometimes invite her to train with him when he practiced his swordsmanship, but he was often distracted. The business of ruling left little time to dote on one's sister.

LIkewise, Susan made the court her home. Lucy occasionally attempted to spend time with her sister, but she was not good at any of the queenly arts Susan practiced, not dancing, nor sewing, nor poetry. The only one of her sister's arts that she excelled at was singing, but Susan did not appreciate being shown up by her little sister, so Lucy would often leave her little gang of court ladies after only an hour or two. 

Edmund, like Lucy, found it harder to live in a palace and abide by the rules of the court. While Peter ruled the land at large, Edmund concerned himself more with the day to day realities of governing. He would keep councils and hear complaints from the People. He would venture out from the walls of Cair Paravel and travel into the towns and villages of Narnia, judging in the courts and ruling from close up. When Lucy wasn't training with her sword or her bow and arrows, she often joined him. She liked meeting the common people, who didn't have to abide by the rules of the court at Cair Paravel. In many ways, it was freeing. 

On her tweflth birthday Peter gifted her with a Quest. She left that very day, her provisions packed for the weeks ahead and only the talking horse, Shama, for company. From that moment on she became Lucy the adventurer, and was only Queen in the times between her travels. In that manner she passed many happy years in the service of her realm. 

Often she would travel to the Eastern Sea. Technically, all four of them ruled over all of Narnia, but Aslan had specifically gifted the Eastern Sea to her and she felt it was her responsibility to look after it as best she could. To her joy, its inhabitants seemed healthy and content. Always happy to recieve her, but rarely in need of her assistance. 

Eight years passed in this happy fashion before Susan became engaged to a handsome prince from Archenland. Lucy returned home from her latest adventure to spend some time with all of her siblings together before Susan was to leave them. Peter had married a year or two before to a young courtier and thus sired a bouncing baby boy he had named Lucas, in honor of his favorite sister. Susan seemed excited enough by the prospect of her upcoming nuptials. Edmund and Lucy yet seemed uninterested in such things, but their older siblings would often exchange knowing looks and say that it was only a matter of time.

To celebrate, the four of them decided to hunt the white stag together, for it would be a great blessing upon Susan's marriage if they were to catch it. They travelled far together, out into the Lantern Waste, but the journey was a merry one. 

And then, suddenly, they were falling onto a hard wooden floor, dressed in uncomfortable woolens. They looked at eachother with dawning horror, seeing the childish faces looking back at them, and for the first time in years Lucy felt like crying. Susan beat her to it, though, and needed to be comforted. Lucy would cry later, into the comfort of her pillow.

Little did she know that this was far from her last trip to Narnia. 


	2. Prince Caspian Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's got coronavirus! We're not actually sure about that cause I can't get tested, obviously, but I've got a bad cough and a fever so...  
> Anyway, here's another chapter. Quarantine is doing wonders for my productivity.

Lucy sat in the train station, kicking her heels against a metal pipe that ran below the bench. She was bored out of her mind. As she had grown older in Narnia she had become able to wait calmly and patiently for things when she needed to, but when she had returned to an eight year old’s body she had returned to an eight year old’s mind. She remembered what it was like to be fourteen, and sixteen, and twenty, but then she was eight again and no more mature or capable of withstanding boredom than she’d been the first time around. Four long years had passed, slow as molasses, and waiting was still almost impossible for the now twelve year old Lucy.

Her siblings sat beside her, all in moody silence. Susan had fared the best upon their return to their world. She was disappointed to find herself in a child’s body and mind again, and she mourned the loss of her handsome betrothed, but she had found in Narnia that she was generally the least favoured of Aslan and his people, which had aggravated her bitterly. Here, in her own world, she was clearly the favourite of their parents and their community. She was the prettiest and most polite of the children. A shining star in her family. She was excited to be returning to school for the semester where she was popular and well liked. Narnia seemed to her to be little more than a well remembered dream. 

After Susan, Edmund had adapted next best to returning to their mundane world. His family saw many improvements in his character when he had returned. While Narnia was little more than a dream to Susan, Edmund remembered it and its lessons well. He strove to be just and fair in all things, and had earned a reputation at school for being affable and friendly to all folks, respected by even the meanest schoolyard bullies. He was young, clever, and handsome, and it was generally expected that if Edmund Pevensie passed judgement on a fellow pupil it would be held up by every other boy at the school, even the older ones. Lucy suspected that he longed to return to Narnia, but had resigned himself not to. He put the sorrow from his mind and flourished in all things.

Peter, on the other hand, struggled most out of all of them. He was consumed by grief for the loss of his wife and son, and would often go several days at a time without uttering any words at all. Lucy was the only one of his siblings whose presence he would tolerate. She often spent long hours reading by his side, or holding him as he wept. They spent endless days training together, using fake swords and staffs. They were not able to find anything to approximate a bow, and thus could not practice their archery, but they maintained their skills at all their other weapons. Peter was seventeen now, and his years of training with Lucy had made him tan and well muscled. Combined with his blond hair and the sorrow in his eyes, and the way he looked out for his younger sister, he had become quite a favorite with the young ladies in their parish. He never showed a preference for any of them, though, which only served to increase his enigma. Many an older girl had attempted to befriend Lucy in order to win his affections, little knowing that Peter’s heart lay far away, in a different realm, with a wife who was now lost to him forever. 

They sat in a glum silence. Lucy leaned her head against Peter’s shoulder. Other than that small point of contact, none of the siblings touched each other. In a few moments a train would arrive to take Lucy and Susan away to school. About a half hour after that, another train would arrive to carry Edmund and Peter to a different school and the four of them would not be reunited for almost three months. By all rights they should have been busily engaged in loving and tearful goodbyes, as many families were around them. Instead, they stared coolly and detachedly across the platform. 

And then, suddenly they were pulled back into Narnia. 

For a few glorious hours everything was how it had been. The four of them rejoiced, not only at having returned to the magical land, but in the triumphant change that came over Peter. He laughed aloud, he sprinted down the beach, he grabbed Lucy by the waist and swung her about in the air. His joy and excitement were palpable and contagious, and the four quickly set to orienting themselves so that they might find their way back home to Cair Paravel. Peter’s son would be almost five years of age now, and they could tell he was itching to see him. 

Most of the actual work of navigating fell upon Lucy, given her history of adventuring, but she quickly found herself becoming confused. If she was reading the sky and the land right then the palace should have been only a mile or two to the east, and clearly visible above the treetops. The others concluded that her navigation skills must have become rusty in their years of disuse, although Lucy felt a solid sureness in her breast telling her that they were almost at their home. They decided instead to walk along the beach and see if they could find a freshwater stream in order to refresh themselves. Once they did, Susan suggested they follow it back into the woods to try and find some People. If they found some, she said, then they might reasonably ask for directions home.

And so they set off into the woods, following the stream East. And so it was that they found the apple orchard, and the ruins, and the chess piece, and the treasure house. From the moment they realized that they were walking through an orchard, Lucy felt a sinking sense of dread that she dared not name. But she was not the only one, for as the night drew on and the roasted their apples over the fire Peter grew more and more withdrawn until he was like his old self in London again. When Susan returned with the chess piece, he mumbled out in low tones “Don’t you see? Lucy was right. She led us straight back to Cair Paravel.” And then all four of them sat around the fire and contemplated the fact that their home had been reduced to shambles around them - which could only have been done through centuries of wear and tear, siege and abandonment. Little Prince Lucas wouldn’t be five years old at all. He would have lived and died and his name would have been lost to time by now.

She had only two consolations through that long night. The first was being reunited with the bottle of cordial and her dagger, their weight familiar and comfortable around her hips. The next was Peter. Something within him had broken when he realized that his wife and son were long dead, but he had set it aside when he took up his sword and shield. He was Peter the Magnificent once again, no matter his personal heartbreak.

And then came the arrival of Trumpkin, and the story of Prince Caspian. And presently, as they were hiking through the woods in search of Caspian’s camp, she saw a glimpse of Aslan himself. The sight filled her with joy, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. The rest didn’t believe her though, and decided to travel down into the gorge to follow the Glasswater. 

The logical part of her brain said she should go with Trumpkin and her siblings, and head down into the gorge. Her heart though, knew that it was right to follow Aslan where he led, even if it seemed wrong. In the end she decided it would be braver to follow Aslan, so she bid her siblings farewell and climbed up along the ridge until she came into a sunny little clearing at the top of the hill. There, in a sunbeam, sat Aslan. She ran to him, and he rolled over on his side so that she might situate herself between his great front paws and hug her arms around his neck. 

He nudged his great head into her hair and blew warm lion’s breath across her face. For the first time since returning to Narnia she saw the forest people again. A cherry tree turned to full bloom and stood suddenly as a wise old man. A breeze ruffled through the hanging strands of a weeping willow and turned it into a great lady, the weepings branches forming a brilliant skirt. 

As the forest returned to life around them Aslan sat up, so that Lucy was kneeling on the ground before him. “My child,” he said with great warmth in his voice. “I am so glad to see you before me once more.” Before, Lucy had felt anger at him for casting her out of Narnia, but she was so glad to be in his presence that all her ill feelings were quickly washed away. 

“I’m sorry, Aslan.”

“Whatever for, my child?”

“I couldn’t get the others to come with me. I tried, but they did not believe me.”

“The fault does not lie with you but with them, my child.” he said. “I will make myself known to them again presently and see what they will say for themselves. But for now, the Queen’s Horn has summoned you to serve the cause of Prince Caspian, and I will take you there.”

“Of course Aslan, at once!”

“Not quite at once, Dear One.” Aslan seemed to smile at her. “For what use can a little English schoolgirl be in a war? You must become Queen Lucy the Valiant once more.”

He blew a stream of warm air over her and she found herself to be dressed in the sort of clothes she had liked to wear on her adventures and explorations in the old days of her reign. She wore supple leather boots laced up over a pair of flexible black trousers, which fit snug to her legs. These were covered by a skirt of heavy grey fabric which hung from her waist nearly to the ground, although it had slits all the way up both sides so that she may retain the freedom of her movement. She also wore a bodice of molded copper, that fell halfway between a fitted bodice and the breastplate of a suit of armor. Under this she wore a loose shirt of fine white linen whose sleeves ran under the greaves that protected her forearms. And on her head, pinned firmly into her hair, was an intricate circlet that resembled woven vines. It was the very one he had crowned her with at her coronation in Cair Paravel. 

She stood and curtsied to Aslan, grinning from ear to ear at the joy of being dressed in fine Narnian clothes once again. 

“I am ready, Aslan.”

“Not quite,” he said, and gestured to two sheathed blades resting on a rock nearby. Upon closer inspection, she found them to be a pair of twin knives (or perhaps very short swords) slightly longer in length than her forearm. She thanked Aslan profusely for the beautiful weapons and quickly unbuckled her weapons belt so she could carry them with her. She hung the small bottle of cordial around her neck to make room for one of the blades on her right hip. The dagger she unclipped and fastened instead around her thigh so that the left blade could go on her belt.

Thus dressed and armed, Aslan knelt down so that she could climb onto his mighty back. They walked for only a short time it seemed, but by the time he carried her through the outskirts of the camp at Aslan’s How the sun was beginning to set in the west. 

People came out of their tents and stared as they passed, awed by the sight of the child queen sat astride the mighty lion himself. Eager to see what was happening, they fell into a procession behind them so that by the time they reached the center of the camp a wide band of people had assembled to see them. 

The center of camp was a wide open space which was being used for training. Pairs of men and talking animals were scattered across the green lawn sparring and practicing together. There was a long table situated in the middle of things where several elderly folk sat conferencing. Advisers, perhaps. At the center of the table was a throne, but it sat empty. The young king must be one of the sparrers, then.

As people caught sight of Aslan they fell silent, their swords and bows falling to their sides. Aslan waited until the whole field was silent, and all its inhabitants had turned to look at them, before speaking. 

“Who among you is the prince called Caspian?”

After a brief pause a boy stepped forward. He looked to be about Edmund’s age, or maybe a bit older. He wore no crown, just a loose linen shirt and homespun britches. He walked up to Aslan and knelt before him. 

“I am Caspian, oh mighty Aslan. What do you need of me?”

“I need nothing of you, my child” Aslan said. “Yesterday you blew the magical horn and asked me for help. Today, I bring you Queen Lucy the Valiant to aid you in your endeavors.”

Taking this as a cue, Lucy hopped down from Aslan’s back to stand by his side. 

“There is little more I can do for you at this time. But I am always at your shoulder, my child. I give your cause my blessing.” Aslan turned, nudged his great head into Lucy’s side, and wandered away. Lucy was left standing alone before a kneeling prince, with several hundred pairs of shocked eyes fixed upon her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, things will slow down and I won't be speeding through entire books in single chapters anymore. Or at least not as much.


	3. Author's Note: Susan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note!

I feel like I need to take a quick moment to address Susan's portrayal in this story. There are many essays and such published about Lewis's treatment of Susan in the books so I won't go into that too much here. I picked Lucy as my heroine because I've always related the most to her. I too am the youngest of four siblings with an older sister who is thought to be uncommonly pretty. That being said, I will not condemn Susan for the crime of her beauty as so many works do. Too often I see her portrayed as a vapid airhead who deserves to be cast out of Narnia. That, or I see her character entirely written over to give her several more Lucy-ish characteristics and turn her into a more typical fiesty heroine. I won't be doing either of these things.

I wish to stay true to Susan's character as she was written by Lewis, but adjust the sexist mistreatment of her. I don't think it's too much of a spoiler to say that Susan, much the same as in the books, will not stay in Narnia forever. When others may choose to return to it, she will remain behind on our Earth. This is not because Aslan judges her makeup and flirtation to be sinful but rather because she genuinely prefers it. I started to set this up in Prince Caspian Part I. On our Earth, things are going well for Susan. She's popular among her peers and teachers, and tends to be more favoured by her parents due to her honest and helpful nature as well as her good looks. In Narnia, on the other hand, she has a hard time fitting in. Unlike her sister, she has no heart for adventuring, and her brothers do most of the work of ruling - Edmund on a day to day level and Peter on a grander scale. That's not to say she was unhappy in Narnia, or that she could not have carved out her own place there if she wanted, but that on the whole she found herself better suited to life back home. 

Since this story is centered around Lucy, and I don't intend to shy away from the tension and bad blood between the sisters, I thought I should get this out now. Susan is not a bad person or even a bad sister. However, in this work we will only really see her from Lucy's perspective. I wanted to make sure I had properly addressed my treatment of Susan before it became an issue in the plot. 

That's all!  
Love,  
QHQ


	4. Prince Caspian: part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy fights a battle and joins the dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended to get through more of the plot in this chapter, but then this happened instead.

After some time the handsome prince stood and inclined his head to her. “My queen,” he said. “Narnia is overjoyed at your return.” Narnia, as a whole, looked altogether more puzzled than overjoyed by her presence, but she took the compliment.

“Thank you, Prince Caspian.” She inclined her head to him in return. “With any luck my siblings should be joining us shortly, to lend their aid to your cause as well.”

There was a long pause. Neither Lucy nor Caspian had been taught the etiquette for interactions between an outlaw prince and a queen who’d stepped some thirteen hundred years forward in history. 

After some time, Lucy noticed the great sword still hanging loosely in Prince Caspian’s hand. “Shall we spar, your highness?”

“If you wish it, your majesty” was his response. She nodded to him and stepped back several paces, unsheathing her new twin blades. She kept her posture relaxed, holding the knives by her sides. Slowly, Prince Caspian raised his sword, grasping it in both hands and settled into a fighter’s stance. Clearly, he was waiting for her to begin the match. Instead, she spoke.

“You’ll have to forgive me, your highness,” she demured. “It has been sometime since I have been able to practice with a real blade.” It was plain that he was already hesitant of fighting a girl. She intended to play upon this. 

“Of course, your majesty.” Prince Caspian replied, still waiting for her to begin the match. “It is an honor to face you on the battlefield, no matter your skill.”

She grinned, somewhat wolfishly. Now he would expect her to fight daintily, and slowly. Rather the way Susan might fight if she was given a sword instead of the arrows she wielded with such skill. 

At last, Lucy turned one of her blades in a slow circle before stepping forward and raising it. Prince Caspian smoothly stepped forward to block her advance and the match was begun. Lucy fought mostly with her right hand, holding her left blade in a firm defensive position so that the prince might think her less skilled with that hand. 

The prince fought well, and Lucy thought that if he had a better idea of her skill they would be well matched. He didn’t, though, and she could tell that Caspian was terrified of hurting her. While their fighting styles were both Narnian in origin, it was clear that Narnian teachings had changed over time from what she and Peter had been taught in Cair Paravel. Lucy ducked and weaved as quickly as possible, avoiding Caspian’s blade and edging him towards the edge of the training ground, where she could see a muddy patch had developed. 

Somewhat reluctantly, Lucy noticed that in terms of brute strength, Caspian far outmatched her. Without a shield she had to be careful to avoid his heavy blows, as being on the receiving end of even one of them would end the match. 

Finally, Lucy’s moment came. The prince slipped a bit in the mud, giving her an opening to slide in closer. Once she was inside his offensive sphere she switched to a more balanced approach, fighting equally with both hands. It was a matter of moments from there. She reached under his next thrust with her right arm and twisted his sword out of his grip. She caught it between her arm and her body, still brandishing her sword in a defensive posture. Quick as a viper, she jabbed her left sword in, bringing it to a rest on his stomach. 

Prince Caspian stared in her eyes for a moment, breathing heavily, before stepping back and wiping the sweat from his brow. Lucy returned his sword to him before doing the same. 

“Well fought, Your Majesty” he said, taking a deep swig from a wineskin before offering it to her. 

“You too,” Lucy said. She drank her fill of sweet Narnian apricot wine before gesturing to the table of advisors. “Shall we discuss your next steps?”

Caspian wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and reached for a towel to clean the sweat and mud from his face and hands. Together they approached the table, where an odd assortment of creatures awaited them.

“My advisors,” he introduced, nodding around at them in turn. “Nikabrik, Reepicheep, Trufflehunter, Glenstorm, and Dr. Cornelius.” Lucy offered them a broad smile and accepted a goblet of fresh water from the mouse, Reepicheep, which he clearly struggled to lift. 

“As I was saying before, your majesties,” Glenstorm began. “Yesterday’s defeat on the Dancing Lawn demonstrates an unpleasant picture of our situation. While we have the numbers to make facing down Miraz possible, it is now bracingly clear that most of them are unprepared for battle.”

Lucy listened for the most part, attempting to make sense of the foreign names and battle tactics. This was all so different from what she came to understand as her Narnia, and she had an unpleasant feeling that she wasn’t going to be much help at all to these good people. 

Finally, Dr. Cornelius brought both of his palms to lay flat against the stone table. 

“Perhaps we should adjourn for the evening, gentlemen.” 

Reepicheep cleared his throat. “And, of course, our esteemed guest, Her Majesty Queen Lucy the Valiant.” The tiny mouse glared around at the surrounding advisors. 

“Er, yes. Of course. Forgive me, My Queen.”

She nodded, holding back a giggle. The mouse was clearly dedicated to protecting her from any slight, even those so small as to be practically nonexistent.

“Anyway, we should retire for the evening. We will not come to any clear course of action now, and would all benefit from some supper.”

The rest of the council agreed, and slowly the group at the table broke up. Turning to face the camp, Lucy hopped up onto the table, and surveyed the sea of tents. She wondered how long she would remain in Narnia this time. Twenty years? Forty? And if she were sent back, how long would it be until she could return. How many lifetimes would she live in Narnia, only to return to a childhood in England?

Eventually, the prince returned and offered her a plate of rich Narnian food. “Isn’t that blasphemous, or some such thing?” he nodded at where she was sitting. 

“When I was a child of eight I lay across this table and wept,” she said, still lost in contemplation. “And the tears that fell from my eyes brought Aslan himself back from the realms of the dead.”

Caspian gave a low whistle, which broke her from her reverie.

“Sorry,” she tried to play off her comment with a laugh. “I was deep in the remembering of this place. It holds many memories.”

“Of course.” He glanced up at her again. “I’m still not going to sit on it, I think.”

“Understandable.”

She hopped down and looked around. The camp was subdued. Fighters sat in circles around small fires, cold and downtrodden. The defeat the day before had been particularly devastating, it seemed. 

“I may not yet know enough about the political situation here to be of much use planning battles and attacks,” she said.

“Nonsense, My Queen,” he replied, gallantly. 

“Don’t lie to me, Your Highness. I will catch up sooner or later. And you may just call me Lucy.”

“Well then, you must call me Caspian.”

“Very well. As I was saying, Caspian, I may not know the situation here, but I do know that morale in this camp is dangerously low. You will need to bring it up or soon there will be defectors.”

“Defectors? I had not considered that.” He glanced about, apparently seeing the same as she did. “How do we fix it?”

“Well, someone, somewhere in this camp must have a fiddle, or a drum, or some such instrument.”

“I wouldn’t know,” his face reddened a little. “This war is almost as new to me as it is to you.”

“We shall have to find one then.”

She set her plate aside and strode forward until she reached the heart of the camp. She was aware of the prince at her shoulder, and glanced back to smile at him. When she reached the center of a large clearing between tents, she turned to face the largest gathering of soldiers and raised her voice.

“Who among you are musicians? We must have music to liven up this evening!”

Presently, a mixed group of animals, men, and dwarves came forward carrying pipes, fiddles, and drums.

“Excellent! Play for me a happy tune, if you please. A jig, or some sort of quick music?”

The players struck up their instruments, and for some time the camp enjoyed the sounds of the resounding music.

“This was a good idea, Lucy. Thank you.” Caspian spoke from where he stood at her shoulder.

“This is only the beginning. You must dance.”

“Dance? I will do no such thing!” She smirked.

“Nothing better than dancing to improve the mood of an army,” she said. “And I’m afraid that the men will not dance until they see their leaders begin it.”

“But I am a terrible dancer, Queen Lucy.”

“Just Lucy, if you please,” she reminded him. “And that’s even better. It’s nice for the soldiers to feel that they’re better than you at something.”

She could tell, though, that Caspian would continue to drag his feet about this, though. After a moment’s thought, she decided to take pity on him.

“Very well, I shall start the dancing. You shall have to join in at some point, though.”

“Thank you, Your High- Lucy. I’m sure that will be much better received.”

She rolled her eyes at him, before striking out into the green. At the next round of the music, she began to dance an old, hopping sort of dance that had been popular in the villages when she had been queen. She would never be as good a dancer as Susan, but she much enjoyed the social sort of common dances, and would be able to make it through a few dances before embarrassing herself too badly. 

After several bars the mouse, Reepicheep, came and joined her, dancing at her side. This seemed to be the cue for many of those watching from the sides, as most of them came to join in short order. Lucy threw her threw her arms wide and grinned wide, spinning past a stomping centaur and a happy trio of bears. 

She lost herself in the steps of the dance, whirling and jumping and stamping her feet. Once or twice she caught eyes with Caspian, and tried to beckon him to join her, but he remained firmly on the sidelines, with his arms crossed.

Some time later, just as Lucy was considering leaving the dance for a much needed respite, a shout went up from the edge of the field. She elbowed her way through the crowd to witness a wondrous sight. The trees were coming to life again, and beneath their blooming branches a mystical procession approached. Fawns and bare chested maidens danced in circles round a man seated on a donkey. An unsettling being ducked below the low hanging branches, moving slowly and taking large steps. A cherubic teenaged boy rejoiced with a band of wild girls as the whole procession continued its meandering progress. For an instant, a wholly irrational fear struck Lucy deep in the pit of her stomach, but then it passed and a man’s cry came up. “It is Bacchus! And the dryads! Aslan has brought the old gods back to Narnia!”

The cry was echoed across the field, and the dancing struck up again as the two groups merged. 

Lucy threw back her head and laughed. She kicked her boots off so that she may dance better, and rejoined the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!


	5. Prince Caspian: part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy hatches a plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one!

Lucy danced the whole night through. She thought that she should have been tired, but the magic of the bacchanal kept her feet free and her eyes wild. Shortly after the old gods joined in the revelry, the prince too finally stepped foot into the dancing field. His steps were slow at first, and awkward, but Lucy grabbed both his hands and swung him around. He laughed, and she did too, and she didn’t care when he stomped on her feet with his big boots.

Sometime around dawn the music died and the revellers settled down around campfires to eat their fill of breakfast. Lucy thought that she felt as rested as if she had slept all night on a wondrous feather pillow. The soldiers around her seemed to feel the same, and they chatted amiably as they shared around the plates of bread and fruit.

Sometime later (Lucy could not have said exactly how long it was) a horn called low from the edge of camp, and Lucy looked up to see a group of four approaching. 

She leapt to her feet and raced to greet her siblings, who had clearly had encounters of their own with Aslan, as they were now dressed in fine Narnian travelling clothes. Trumpkin the dwarf led them forward, his eyes casting about. It was plain he was looking for Caspian. 

Lucy slowed as she reached the clear end of the field at Aslan’s How. A moment later, she felt a presence by her shoulder and looked to see that Caspian had stepped out of the crowd to greet the newcomers.

Her siblings looked a little more ragged for their travels, but still seemed to project the air of authority they had worn so well whilst ruling. It seemed that all eyes turned to her to make the introductions, so she slipped back into the formal voice she’d used the day before.

“Your Highness, may I introduce to you my brothers and sister. King Peter the Magnificent, Queen Susan the Gentle, and King Edmund the Just.”

Caspian knelt as she finished their names, and bowed his head.

“Peter, Susan, Edmund, this is Prince Caspian. The rightful ruler of Narnia who has been ousted by his wicked uncle, Miraz.

They nodded their heads in turn, and Caspian regained his feet. His eyes shone brightly as he gazed upon them.

“Greetings, all. You shall be just as welcome to this cause as your sister, Queen Lucy. I am sure that your aid shall be invaluable to us in our efforts.”

Peter nodded. He seemed to have trouble bringing the right words to mind, and Edmund and Susan were listing towards each other at a somewhat alarming angle. 

“Your Highness,” she said quickly, hoping to avoid an embarrassing moment when one of her siblings fainted on the green. “It would appear that my siblings have been travelling through the night. Might we find a spare tent that they may rest in?”

Caspian was somewhat taken aback. It was surprising to him that anyone could be tired after the night they had had, although he supposed the others hadn’t had the benefit of godly energy to keep their spirits high. 

“Of course!” He beckoned Nikabrik forwards. “Show them to the pavilion set aside for Her Majesty, and see that they are provided with refreshment.”

Peter nodded low to Lucy in thanks as he staggered off to rest.

Sometime later Lucy and Caspian were sparring once more when a great shout and commotion came up from Aslan’s How. They rushed forward at once with weapons drawn to find an odd scene inside the cave. Nikabrik, a werewolf, and a hag lay dead upon the floor. Over their bodies stood Peter and Edmund, with their swords drawn. And lingering in the air was a cruel laugh that echoed in Lucy’s spine and brought a chill to her flesh. 

“He had been arguing for dwarf rights for some time.” Dr. Cornelius said that evening at council. “Nikabrik felt that the dwarves received better treatment under the reign of the White Witch Jadis, and argued that we should try to reach her. That hag he worked with told us that witches never truly die. I guess we should have listened to her.”

“Is that true?” said Susan. “Witches never die? Does that mean the White Witch is back in Narnia?”

“It is unclear, Your Majesty.” The doctor replied. “We will look into it, but I’m afraid we cannot do so until the war is won.”

“What we do know,” Lucy picked up, “Is that the attempt launched yesterday to bring her back was unsuccessful. They tried to resurrect the Witch, but the boys stopped them in time. Right now, this rebellion is not our most immediate threat.”

The council murmured their assent. 

“Edmund’s plan is a good one.” She continued. “We can minimize casualties and perhaps even sway Telamarine support for our cause if Peter or Caspian defeats Miraz in single combat. However, we should be prepared for the eventuality that he does not rise to the bait.”

“We are prepared to do battle in an outright fashion, if it should come to that, My Queen.” Reepicheep squeaked from where he was perched by her elbow.

“There is the concern, though, that the Telamarines could escape via the river.” Caspian said. “The bridge is wide, and the Telamarines could pull off a quick escape across it, and then destroy it before we could give chase.”

“What - “ Lucy started, but was cut off by Peter.

“We should divide our force.” He said. “Half to come to the front when the duel takes place, and half to conquer from the back. If we move out tonight, we could meet them from behind coming across the bridge.”

“Miraz would notice, though.” Said Susan. “He expects a show of force tomorrow. If half our force was gone-”

“Could we send less?” Edmund said. “How few could we send to the back and still be successful? How many do we need at the front to not look suspicious?”

“What was your idea, Queen Lucy?” Caspian said. He had noticed her efforts to rejoin the conversation, and she smiled gratefully at him for bringing her back in.

“We do not need to cut the army off from behind.” She said. “All we need to do is to destroy their route of egress. Susan and I could lead a small force, no more than five, around to the bridge and destroy it. With the bridge out of the way, the army would either have to surrender or swim.”

“It is not a bad idea, Lucy, but it’s not feasible. Who would protect you?” This from Edmund, who had apparently forgotten her prowess with a sword. With a staff, with a dagger, and with a hammer, for that matter.

“I should think that Queen Lucy is quite capable of caring for herself when it comes to the blade.” said Reepicheep, ever her stalwart defender.

“As is Queen Susan,” chimed in Prince Caspian. Lucy did not miss how his eyes softened on her sister and the way his voice curled around her name. 

“Indeed.” Lucy tried not to be blunt with her brother. It had been quite some time since he had seen her fight. In his eyes she was once again nothing more than a child. “Besides, I believe that I can secure additional protection for us. This is all a safety net, anyway. Peter shall be victorious, and Susan and I shall have destroyed a perfectly good bridge for nothing. Are we agreed?”

She glared around the table until everyone had nodded or murmured their assent, then turned and swept away, Susan at her side. They would need to rest early if they were to build up strength for the night’s journey.


End file.
